Loving Local Food – I launched this blog in February 2009 after Molly Hoyne suggested I start blogging about my passions. I started falling in love with food when I moved to Seattle six years ago and Loving Local Food was the outlet that finally helped me bring my culinary passion to the next level. I am able to share and connect with friends and family through food, regardless of whether or not we can all sit down at the table together.

Seattle Food Bloggers – I happened to mention Loving Local Food to a work acquaintance and within moments he was introducing me to Keren Brown via email. Keren (Frantic Foodie) organizes food blogger events throughout Seattle and is a master at networking within the food community. I have connected with numerous food bloggers, met professional food writers, and had the chance to take a class by well-known photographer, Lou Manna. The opportunities (or foodportunities as Keren would say) have been endless.

Food Writing Class – I signed up for Candace Dempsey’s food writing class this fall to learn a few professional tips and check an item off my life list. I was inspired to write an ode to my heritage with Minnesota Hotdish: A Farmwife Classic Your Family Will Love. I learned to craft pitch letters, read stories from professional food writers, and received invaluable feedback. The praise and constructive critique I acquired was reassurance I should continue to put words on paper.

West Seattle Winery LLC – This past summer, my husband and I converted our garage into a winery. It is fully licensed and bonded by the state and 2009 was our first commercial crush. We had long weekends and purple-stained fingers, but our wine babies are in barrels and demijohns and we are looking forward to their release in 2010. Next step? Creating a brand name for the winery. Any ideas?

A Greener Kitchen – After six months of researching vendors, building up inventory, and cursing at shopping carts we launched A Greener Kitchen. Officially released to the world on December 31, 2009, A Greener Kitchen was born out of my obsession with the kitchen and focuses entirely on eco-friendly kitchen tools, gadgets, and accessories.

Cheers to the progress made in 2009, and here’s to everything 2010 has waiting for us!

(Give this part your best Minnesotan accent. C’mon, give a whirl!) Have you ever heard of Ole and Lena? Vell, they live up north in Minnesota loving life and bumblin’ around.

Vell, don’tcha know, old Ole got sick and vus dyin’ in his bed. And vhile vaitin’ for her old husband to kick duh bucket, Lena started in to cookin’. She vus makin’ lefsa and a nice zucchini hotdish. Well, Old Ole, he loved nuttin’ better than Lena’s hotdish, and ven he smelled it from da deathbed, up he went to da kitchen. Vhen Lena saw dat he vas eatin’ a plate of hotdish and lefsa she took it from him and said, “Ole, vat are ya doin’? Dat hotdish is for duh funeral don’tcha know!”

Minnesotans love their hotdish – the home-style cousin of the casserole – and I would know, generations of my family, including me have called the state, and the dish, home.

Hotdish first got its start when budget-minded farm wives needed to feed their families, as well as congregations in the basements of the first Minnesota churches. It was a simple solution for stretching ingredients, especially pricey cuts of meat, while still being able to dazzle family, friends, and neighbors with something tasty and satisfying.

Also imagine Minnesota winters when the temp could drop to 40 below – a warm hotdish was a comfort food that was filling and foolproof – even in a wood-burning oven. Farm cooks everywhere embraced these hotdishes, and every family had a favorite. And they still do. Including mine.

When I was growing up, my aunt Connie and uncle Keith prepared wild rice hotdish every Sunday for our post-Mass get togethers. My mom often made tuna noodle hotdish with saltine crackers crumbled on top. For deer hunting season, my grandma whipped up her concoction of ground beef, shell pasta, corn, and cream of mushroom soup. Cream of anything soup is an essential base for any Minnesota hotdish.

Like Lena, my family also had a funeral hotdish – we didn’t use zucchini, but we saved our best combination of tomatoes, corn, hamburger, and elbow macaroni to mourn the loss of our elderly relatives and fellow church members.

Hotdish can literally be any combination of ingredients – if you asked 150 Minnesotans for their favorite hotdish recipe, you would get 150 recipes in return.

The word hotdish is so ingrained in me, that it wasn’t until I moved away from Minnesota that it dawned on me – other people might not know the meaning of the word. The first year I was in Seattle, my fellow co-workers and I threw together a potluck Thanksgiving dinner. We were discussing what to bring – pumpkin pie, mashed potatoes, dressing – and I uttered the phrase in every Minnesotan’s repertoire, “I’ll just bring a hotdish.” The confused stares I got back threw me off my game. “You know what a hotdish is, right?” My brave co-worker Evelyn, said, “oh yah, oh yah, it’s a plate and it gets hot, helps keep the food warm.” “Not exactly, it’s essentially a casserole.” It’s a funny comparison to me because the word “casserole” doesn’t hold the same feeling and tradition as the word “hotdish.”

I found this great quote from a fellow Minnesotan – She sums it up perfectly.

“Hotdishes are such a part of our history. They are the epitome of comfort foods and bring such satisfying memories to all Minnesotans.”      ~Linda M. Kopp, Staples, MN

From Ole and Lena with their Scandinavian accents to my grandma with her “oh you’se guys” to my mom and to me – the basics of the Minnesota hotdish remain the same whether or not the ingredients change.

The cost included a three-course lunch prepared by the Chef in the Hat; how could I not go?

I was one of only a few people brave enough to show up with a point-and-shoot, but I was reassured it could create stunning photos with the right light and proper settings. Prior to instruction, these are the shots I got:

After adjusting my ISO (I had no idea what ISO stood for, still not sure, something about sensitivity), I was able to brighten up the photo a bit.

The above photo was taken with natural light and camera adjustments. In this next snapshot, you’ll see a glimmer of light in middle of the plate. With careful placement of mirrors off to the edge,  the natural light bounces back on the food adding dimension.

When we moved away from the natural light of the window, the orange/yellow light showed up in the photograph. These are the light conditions I usually face in my house. My food shots usually end up with this orange tint.

After shooting in the dining room, we had the honor of sneaking back to the kitchen where Chef Thierry and his team were preparing the first course of our lunch, a red and yellow heirloom tomato soup.

When the class portion of the day was over, we all headed to the dining room for lunch. Each course was paired with wine. The heirloom tomato soup with a Chateau St. Michelle Viognier, the duck with a Bordeaux blend, and dessert with Muscato di Asti.

I photographed the dessert plate from two different angles, one with the natural light in the background and one with it in the foreground. It’s interesting to see how each angle brings something different to the photo.

I am far from a professional food photographer, but I have picked up a few tips to help me share my foodie creations.

I have trouble finding my inner fair enthusiast. I don’t really want to buy anything, I’m not interested in the rides, and I try to stay as far away from the food as I can. Despite these initial feelings, I somehow seem to walk away from the event a happy girl.

When I was growing up, I was a Minnesota 4-Her. No, I did not show cows or wear a big belt buckle. I did live on a farm, but my interests expanded well beyond animals and agriculture. I baked, a lot – confetti cupcakes, corn muffins, and chocolate chip cookies. I sewed – tank tops, dresses, and skirts. I built circuits, dabbled in arts and crafts, and grew flowers for beautiful arrangements. I won a blue ribbon for demonstrating how to make my grandma’s home made noodles and I spread the 4-H word during my term as a Minnesota State 4-H Ambassador.

I often take for granted the ways these experiences have shaped my life, but I always seem to rediscover the memories at the Puyallup Fair. Last weekend, my husband, his mom, and I braved the heat and walked through the gates. We headed straight to the hobby hall in search of cooler air, but what we really found were giant pumpkins, home brewed beer, exquisite heirloom tomatoes, and wall-sized murals made with the bounty of Washington state granges.

After the hobby hall, we wandered into the fair museum. I was enthralled with black and white, aged photographs of grange displays from years past. I stared for what felt like hours at the memories, the artifacts – an old Sunbeam mixer, antique potato mashers, and a magic egg cleaner.

After I pulled myself from the museum, we walked diagonally across the fairgrounds to the 4-H building. We perused blue ribbon photographs, grand champion root vegetables, and watched as young 4-Hers scurried to get ready for the four o’clock fashion revue.

I was reminded of the ribbons I won, the lessons I learned, the friends I made, and the passion I felt every year at the Minnesota State Fair.

Despite the early rise, I must say it was the most productive four hours I have had this month. It gave me the opportunity to reflect on myself, my relationship, and my values; challenged me to think about where I want to go and what I want to accomplish in the next ten years. Would it surprise you that almost half of the items that made it onto my list are food-related? Depending on how well you know me, probably not, but it made me realize how incredibly passionate I am about the subject.

I have a few small, easy to check off goals like loading new songs on my iPod or learning how to can fruits and veggies.

Having kids is definitely a big goal and attending culinary school, a lofty goal. I have spent the last few years waffling on the latter. I do not want to be a restaurant chef, but I aspire to teach others how to cook (that is on my life list too).

This version of my life list is my 36 before 36, check boxes of skills and thrills I want to have and experience in the next ten years. Where do I start? What should I check off first? Before I worry too much, I decided that the first step is to declare it to the world. Here it is world (or slice of world that may happen to stumble upon this blog post). In no particular order, here is my life list.

• Take a hot air balloon ride.
• Taste wine in the South of France. (Charlie and I just booked a trip for next June. Where should we go?)
• Take a French cooking class, in France.
• Take a Spanish cooking class, in Spain.
• Take an Italian cooking class, in Italy.
• Keep a garden year round.
• Own and operate my own business.
• Help my mom launch her new product line.
• Take the 29gifts.org challenge.
• Teach someone how to cook. (Ideally an underprivileged family through a local volunteer organization.)
• Visit the west coast of Australia.
• Take a trip to Las Vegas with my family when my youngest brother turns 21. (So close.)
• Finish painting all of the rooms in our house. (My husband put this one on his life list too!)
• Prepare a multi-course dinner for my friends and family.
• Go to culinary school.
• Have 10,000 visitors to my blog.
• Publish an article.
• Dig for and prepare a geoduck.
• Read The Little Black Book of Style and follow as least five tips.
• Take a food and/or travel writing class.
• Have kids.
• Make a habit of placing worries in my God box, giving my fears up to the Universe.
• Take a yoga vacation, or keep a yoga regimen while on vacation.
• Join/assist with the Delridge Produce Co-op.
• Join a business networking group.
• Prepare my own lunch every day.
• Update the song list on my iPod.
• Keep our house clean and clutter free.
• Learn to can fruits and veggies.
• Sell our fruit wine at a farmers market.
• Reach our goal amount for our savings account.
• Travel to New York City. (Can you believe I have never been?)
• Visit New Orleans.
• Own and drive a hybrid or similar fuel efficient car.
• Attend a Minnesota Wild game at the Xcel Energy Center in St. Paul, MN.
• Record the song I wrote for Charlie for our wedding.

If you happened to scope something out you might be able to help me with, raise your hand. I would be overjoyed to return the favor by helping you complete your own life list, food-centric or otherwise.

A regular attendee of Keren Brown’s Seattle Food Blogger events, it would have been foolish not be present at her inaugural Foodportunity event. I marked the date on the calendar, lightly twisted my husband’s arm to come with me, and visited the website on a regular basis. The clock was ticking, but for some reason I was not buying tickets. I decided to set a date, pay day. The message arrived via Twitter only twenty four hours before the influx of cash into my bank account – Foodportunity was sold out! I was absolutely crushed; I think I might have cried. I sent Keren a note, trying to hide my embarrassment of not buying tickets ahead of time, “Bummer! I barely missed out.”

Two days later, Frantic Foodie (Keren) was on the hunt for volunteers. It was destiny; I signed up for the task immediately. The night of the event I donned my Foodportunity t-shirt, met my fellow helpers, and parked myself at the front door to check in the K-Z attendees. I welcomed panelists Nancy Leson and Rebekah Denn, bumped into Twitter followers and followees, and reconnected with a former co-worker I had not seen in years.

When my volunteer duties had ceased, I grabbed my two drink tickets, picked up a glass of 2008 Les Amis (Riesling, Muscat, Gewurztraminer blend) from Vin du Lac, and began to wander from one food vendor to the next.

Highlights include a whole roasted pig (behind the salmon in the photo) from Tom Douglas, saint basil truffles from Intrigue Chocolates, pepper bacon-esque hummus from Sound Bites, and blueberries and corn with beef tenderloin from The Chef in the Hat.

How could I forget Serafina’s green gazpacho, Olivar’s anchovy and avocado on a toasted baguette, and the honeycomb wine pairing combo from Heavenly Honey Farm.

To top it off, On Safari Foods sent me home with a long link of lamb sausage. I tossed the souvenir with sweet onions, basil, and fresh beet noodles from La Pasta. Talk about a Foodportunity!

I recently read a book that has changed the entire way I think about wine. Passion on the Vine author, Sergio Esposito, grew up in Naples and immigrated to America with his family when he was ten. They were welcomed to upstate New York by his relatives with a bland, uninspired meal – far from the feasts and watered down Sangiovese he was used to in Italy. Despite the Americanized ways of his uncle, he was one of Sergio’s only continued connections to wine, starting with the jug or two of country wine he always kept beneath the sink. As Sergio grew older, he refused to succumb to the boring fare slapped down on a plate and the lackluster wines that everyone loved… because some high and mighty critic told them to.

He dug down to his roots and began intimately studying Italian wines, working at restaurants, serving as a personal sommelier, and visiting the vineyards of his homeland, ultimately becoming America’s foremost authority on the subject.

Armed with extensive wine knowledge and with America’s palate in need of a makeover, Sergio was inspired to open Italian Wine Merchants, a shop dedicated to bringing the most authentic Italian wines to the United States. His memoir includes one of his frequent trips back to his Italy where he introduces the characters behind those passionate bottles of wine. From a farmer who uses the rhythm of the moon to guide his crops to a prince who destroys his vineyards prior to his death so that his grapes will never be used incorrectly, Passion on the Vine allows us to discover the intense emotional connection that comes from pouring your heart and soul into every cluster of grapes.

Sergio brings to light that the first quality winemakers were priests and alchemists, men who believed that nature was central to all understanding. Their simplistic belief was that best wine came from the best raw natural material. From the ground to the barrel and into the bottle, the winemaker is a trusting parent letting nature take 90% of the course and nurturing only 10%.

In Washington State’s newest American Viticulture Area (or AVA), Benson Family Vineyards takes a similar approach. Eleven, possibly twelve years ago, Paul and Kathy Benson, along with their two sons, Jeff and Scott, purchased 30 acres of orchards in the hills of Manson, high above Lake Chelan. They dug up the orchards, posted weather stations, and for the first year and a half, they monitored every slope, every patch of dirt to determine which vines to grow where and which direction to plant them. Only when the vines began to produce fruit (3 years later) did they even think about entering the winemaking business. The Benson family touches every cluster of grapes from the vine to the holding tanks, to the barrel, the bottle, and even in the tasting room.

On a recent trip to Chelan, Charlie and I found ourselves returning to Benson in search of more Curious, one of their most popular white blends. After we tasted a selection of wines and the crowd began to thin, Charlie and I struck up conversation with one of the Benson sons, Jeff. The more we spoke, the more exciting the conversation became and eventually we were running outside for a better view of the crops.

From atop the hill, he pointed out every row of grapes and why they chose to plant them where they did. Cabernet Sauvignon, east to west to get the most heat, and Reisling north to south to catch the breeze to cool them down. He shared stories about him and his dad thinning the vines and testing the Brix in preparation for harvest. He pointed out the clearing in the vineyards where he and his wife were married two years earlier, and revealed his frustration with the Riesling vines, telling us of his plans to tear them out and create a fishing pond for his kids. He caught himself showing a bit of his emotional side and puffed out his chest for a moment – “…and then we’re going to turn the room downstairs into Jeff’s Bar.” In retrospect it was a short conversation, but it was just long enough for him to openly share his family’s passion on the vine.

Oddly enough, but perhaps not so, I am beginning to think this way about everything I consume. Where and how was it grown? Was it truly cared for? Was it loved? I get a passionate spark just from the simple act of cooking, but if I grow some of the ingredients, hand-pick any of the components, it turns that spark into a fire.

Unfortunately, I have long been distanced from family farm and I am currently without a full garden, so I have developed a habit of visiting my local farmers market. I seek out fresh in-season produce, free range chickens, Washington honey, and apple-fed chicken eggs. I enjoy striking up conversations with the vendors, feeling passion emanate from their chests. It makes me feel good about what I eat and drink, gives me an emotional connection to my food, invigorates my local economy, and saves my palate from bland, mass-produced ingredients.

It saddens me to hear of massive food companies plumping their chickens with salt water, chiseling down carrots in factories, and slapping “organic” “natural” labels on processed food… all to make a few extra bucks. The thought, the care, the love, has seeped out of our meals. The only way to bring it back is to start creating a demand for it. If you choose to buy farm-fresh chicken eggs, you are one less person mindlessly picking up a carton of perfectly white, flavorless eggs. If you buy a whole chicken from the farmers market, perhaps your neighbor will too. Get to know the vintners that produced the fruit or your wine and they will continue to nurture their grapes.

I won’t twist your arm to jump on my bandwagon, but I encourage you to open your eyes and open your heart, create an emotional connection, and feel your own version of “passion on the vine.”

At 5 o’clock, I scrambled to leave work as fast as I could. I wanted some additional time to pick up a few items before the event got under way. My first stop was at the Grateful Bread Company tent for a sample of their Struan multigrain and French breads. I was heading out to Chelan for the weekend and the French bread seemed like an ideal companion for a grilled steak, so I picked up a loaf.

Collins Family Orchard brought overflowing boxes of cherries to the market and I was more than thrilled to help them get rid of a few.

I introduced myself to Jason from Local Roots and snatched their last bag of “not so spicy” mixed greens. These eventually made their way into a cherry, goat cheese, and walnut salad (enjoyed with the aforementioned steak).

After one more look around and a quick contemplation of nut butters and eggs, it was time to reconvene with my fellow food bloggers at Queen Anne’s Eat Local.

I have driven by Eat Local more than a handful of times. I was intrigued, but didn’t quite understand what they offered. Verbatim from their website, here is the description: Eat Local is an artisan food store offering prepared meals made with seasonal, organic ingredients bought directly from local farms. Even though I enjoy cooking on a regular basis, I decided this would be a great option when I am low on time, but still want to consume a local meal. In addition to their frozen appetizers, entrees, and desserts, Eat Local also retails Washington wines, Rockridge Orchards cider, Bluebird Grains, Woodrings spreads, and local cheeses.

(I met and reconnected with a collection of fabulous food bloggers at this event, including Hungry Grrl, Mise en Place Seattle, and Nude Food.)

The pig-shaped food truck serves braised, pulled pork and veg sandwiches, slaw with cabbage and fennel, and chips sprinkled with Maximus Minimus Seasoning Salt. [Bonus: They use compostable products to serve their fresh fare!]

Making each combination unique is the chance to choose your sauce, Maximus (savory and spicy) or Minimus (tangy and sweet). Always a bit wimpy when it comes to spice, I chose the minimus pork sandwich with Beecher’s flagship cheese, a side of minimus slaw, and hibiscus nectar.

The whole wheat bun was soft and slightly sweet, the pork was tender and full of flavor, the slaw light and crunchy. Before I was finished, I was brainstorming a list of friends I needed to meet up with for lunch. Maximus Minimus is open every day from 11:00am to 4:00pm on the corner of 2nd and Pike, the perfect place to meet downtown. My next order at the oinker on wheels? A Maximus pulled pork sandwich with a side of chips and ginger lemonade.

(I met a collection of fabulous food bloggers at this event, including Hungry Grrl, Sonja’s Kitchen, Tastefully Overcaramelized, and Mary Eats.)

I was half way through my book and a dozen blog posts in when I decided to take a little jump. I wrote a few pitch letters with the idea of building soup from whatever the heck you have in your pantry. I expanded even further. I pitched my idea to the West Seattle Herald and said, “Hey, I can make soup from whatever I find fresh at the West Seattle Farmers Market.” They said, “Sounds great! Can’t wait to see the finished piece.”

I went to the farmers market and I sought out in-season ingredients and I came up with this surprisingly delicious soup. I wrote the recipe, I wrote the article, and I took the photographs. I submitted the words and pictures to the Herald and they posted it on westseattleherald.com, on the home page… for an entire 24 hours! It was not Bon Appetit, Sunset Magazine, or Food & Wine, but it was mine, for a moment. A reason to keep on doing exactly what I’m doing: mixing, baking, making, writing, photographing, experiencing, sharing, inspiring.

West Seattle Herald – A Soup for the Season

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